


Treachery

by ToolMusicLover



Series: A Just Surrender [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: ...sort of, ...the tiniest slither of comfort, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst, Apprentice Anakin Skywalker, Emperor Obi-Wan Kenobi, Forgiveness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Anakin Skywalker, Sith Anakin Skywalker, Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, Suitless Darth Vader, Treason, Unhealthy Relationships, happyish ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26713888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToolMusicLover/pseuds/ToolMusicLover
Summary: He hadn’t felt such anxiety in a long time, not since the fall of the Republic over a year ago. Except now his worry was accompanied with fear of the unknown. He didn’t know how his actions would be received by his Master, never before had he felt so lost whilst considering the man he should know better than anyone. He wanted to presume that he was overreacting, that his Master would understand, but Obi-Wan was an indefinitely different man to who he had been just over fourteen standard months ago.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: A Just Surrender [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944115
Comments: 12
Kudos: 115





	Treachery

**Author's Note:**

> This is a big ball of angst everyone, so be prepared for a lot of tension, a tiny slither of comfort and a just about happy ending.
> 
> I’m writing a part two that’s purely smut, but I can already say that it’s going to be as intense and angsty as this fic.
> 
> I’m a tad nervous about publishing this as it’s written in a completely different tone to my other fics and it’s my first time writing Anakin’s POV. 
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy reading though!

Anakin exhaled loudly into the quiet glass elevator, his hands grasping the handrail in front of him. The Coruscant lights flickered continuously as the moving transport carried him upwards towards the penthouse suite of a prestigious complex in the city’s centre. He paid the view little attention, instead he fought against the anxiety battling within his chest, worry settling cold and heavy at the bottom of his stomach.

He hadn’t felt such anxiety in a long time, not since the fall of the Republic over a year ago. Except now his worry was accompanied with fear of the unknown. He didn’t know how his actions would be received by his Master, never before had he felt so lost whilst considering the man he should know better than anyone. He wanted to presume that he was overreacting, that his Master would understand, but Obi-Wan was an indefinitely different man to who he had been just over fourteen standard months ago.

He grimaced uncomfortably as his stomach rolled once again, his thoughts only encouraging the ball of anxiety. The fact that he had not seen or spoken to his Master since the incident didn’t help, after each mission he usually reported back to his Master as soon as possible. Except this time he hadn’t and he hadn’t received any communication in return. Anakin rubbed at his chest distractedly, his breath coming heavier, his Master’s silence was perhaps the most terrifying of it all.

The tight confines of the elevator were quickly becoming claustrophobic, he grunted, pleased, when he looked at the display screen to see that he would be arriving on the top floor in less than a minute.

Once the doors pinged open he stalked into the wide hallway, his steps certain but his pace unhurried. His black cape billowed behind him as he walked down the long path, the dark red walls and high ceiling exuding power and influence. The top floor of this complex was available to himself and his Master only, it was their personal space. There were various doors littered along the hallway, all leading to the private rooms of his Master. Anakin didn’t often stray into these smaller spaces, he was uninterested in the rooms in which he knew his Master used to run their Empire. Instead, he preferred to stay within their shared quarters, the place that had slowly but eventually become his home.

He took a reassuring breath as he came to stand outside the door to their quarters, his heart thumped erratically and sweat gathered in his hairline. He tried to calm himself, to at least enforce some sense of tranquillity upon his Force signature so that his Master wouldn’t be able to discern his trepidation so easily. It was a futile exercise he knew, a simple touch against mind would reveal all of his worries effortlessly. When his Master requested entrance to his mind he gave it, there was no hesitation, no unease, his thoughts were for his Master to own and use however he best pleased.

Their quarters were grand, yet simple. The decor was minimalist, both of their upbringings as Jedi having identifiably determined their taste for modesty. That is where the similarities ended. The walls here were also a deep red, running impossibly high so that one had to lift their head to see the ceiling, the floor was a white marble that gleamed constantly and highlighted his Master’s need for cleanliness and the furniture was spread cross the large space, their colours predominantly dark.

His Master was staring out the glass window, his hands clasped behind his back and his spine ramrod straight. The various lamps placed around the room cast shadows over his hard features, the amber glow emphasizing his sharp posture and the grey streaks in his auburn hair. Anakin swallowed thickly. It still surprised him that Obi-Wan could project cruelty and intimidation without the need to do anything, his distant demeanour and cold Force signature menacing enough that Anakin suddenly desperately wanted to leave as his chest clinched in panic, frightened of what his Master would do.

All the while, his Master observed the Coruscant skyline with indifference as it glittered from the trillions of lights caused by its inhabitants. The planet looked remarkably similar to how it had during the time of the Republic, the only significantly noticeable difference being the now dark Jedi Temple on the horizon.

The light side of the Force no longer permeated the air of Coruscant, or the Galaxy, he and his Master had seen to that.

His boots were terribly loud as he crossed the room and came to stand by his Master’s side. His presence was met with a continued silence that caused his limbs to quiver in dread, still so unused to the icy poise of a man he had only ever thought of as warm and infinitely kind for so long.

“I am surprised that you decided to return to me Lord Vader.”

Anakin flinched at the name and trembled from shame and hurt. The former because of its deliberate and continued usage as a reminder of his betrayal, that he had dared call another Master. He had pleaded with Obi-Wan to name him something else, so that he could show him that he only had one Master, only ever one Master - but his cries were merely met with a harsh sneer. And the latter for his Master’s utterance of the name in this place, their private quarters, the only place where the name _Anakin_ still fell from his Master’s lips and the name Lord Vader held no importance.

He risked a quick glance at his Master’s profile, observing the firm line of his mouth and the golden glow of eyes that stared resolutely ahead. He too placed his arms behind his back, though only to hide the embarrassment of his shaking hands.

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

He swallowed and shoved down the urge to touch his Master, to beg for forgiveness whilst he wrapped his arms around him and breathed in his familiar rustic scent. He had missed his Master, had missed Obi-Wan, so much these past few months.

“There isn’t anything in the Galaxy that would stop me from returning to you Master,” he professed.

Never had he uttered a truer statement. He and his Master had wreaked havoc on the Galaxy, his rage and Obi-Wan’s infinite sadness imploding so that the Republic fell victim to a bloodbath caused by the pain his decision had imposed on them both. He had returned to his true Master soon after learning of the folly behind Sidious’ lies, pleading for help and absolution for his crimes. He had been met with the dangerous gleam of honey in Obi-Wan’s eyes and had privately grieved the loss of the previous sea blue that had always welcomed him so affectionately.

“Indeed,” his Master said, the stern tone feeding Anakin’s distress.

He clenched his fists tightly and felt the sweat at his hairline trickle down his temple, his black robes near stifling as he fought to take steadying breaths.

“Tell me – did you not swear to me that you would obey my every command? Both as your Master and as your Emperor.”

“I did,” he whispered.

“Then why have I been informed that the natives of the planet Shili haven’t been captured?”

Anakin bowed his head and fought against the tears that threatened to fall from behind his lids, his terror so overwhelming that he nearly heaved the contents of his stomach onto the floor between them.

“I have no reasonable excuse Master,” he muttered to the floor.

“Then perhaps, Lord Vader, you better think of one quickly,” his Master uttered, his voice monotone and body still.

He wanted to fold down onto his knees and offer himself in supplication so that his Master could truly see the extent of his sorrow. He knew though that his Master wouldn’t be impressed with such a display, if there was anything about the former Jedi Master that had remained it was his stoic composure. No amount of begging would move his detached Master when he still had questions he wanted answered.

With closed eyes he spoke quietly, “The natives of Shili are Togruta’s Master. I wasn’t able to capture them.”

He flicked his eyes open just in time to see the tightened line of his Master’s mouth, the strict lips fraught with disapproval. His chest pulsed painfully at the sight and his throat tightened anew. He had never been able to withstand his Master’s disappointment, no matter whether he was a Jedi or a Sith.

Finally, his Master turned his head to look at him. If it hadn’t been for his eyes Anakin wouldn’t have thought anything was amiss, but the gaze of his Master was wrought with disappointment and anger, every golden glimmer stiff and imperious as he stared at Anakin rigidly.

Unable to stand the aversion in his Master’s cold glare, tears leaked from his eyes and travelled slowly down his heated cheeks. He had not cried from sadness in so long. In the past year he had only ever cried from pleasure. It felt right that in both instances his Master was the reason for his tears.

With no concern for the weeping form of his apprentice his Master continued the conversation unburdened. “I am aware that the species of the planet are Togruta’s Lord Vader. What I want to know is why you let them go? When their capture was within your grasp,” his Master hissed.

Anakin choked on a sob as he considered his Master’s words, his desire for Obi-Wan to understand screaming in the Force, his signature open and ready for his Master to probe so that he wouldn’t be made to speak of his betrayal openly.

As he had expected, his unspoken plea for leniency was ignored.

“I-I wasn’t able to capture them b-because it didn’t feel right Master. They’re A-Ahsoka’s people,” he wept.

The sound of his thumping heartbeat filled his ears as his choked admission lingered in the air between them. His Master was as unreadable as ever and for the first time since he had taken on his alias Anakin wept over the cruelty of Obi-Wan’s continued indifference, over the Master he had lost and who never would have asked such a merciless task of him. He wanted to shake Obi-Wan and ask _don’t you remember? Those are the same people that **we** saved only a few years ago. How can we enslave the people of **our** Padawan?_

“Why should that matter to me? Does your sworn fealty mean nothing? And all because of a Padawan who abandoned you?” his Master snarled.

Anakin’s legs quaked as the extent of his Master’s anger finally begun to reveal itself. His Master’s rage was so different to his own, there was no raised voice, nor broken furniture or immature arrogance. Instead, his Master’s fury could be measured in the tautness of his body, the precision of his words and the accuracy of his movements. It was breathtakingly glorious, his Master – the Emperor, the man who caused whole planetary systems to bow at his feet with the merest tilt of his head or with spoken words as intoxicating as the strongest liquor. These were the techniques his Master employed when negotiations were possible, and when they weren’t Lord Vader was sent with instructions of domination.

In this moment his admiration wilted beneath his Master’s imposing presence, apprehension clouded his thoughts so that his mind and body were slow to respond. He whimpered quietly when he realised that he didn’t know what to say and that it seemed impossible he would be able to convince his Master of his loyalty. All he knew was that he had to try, for nothing was more important than his Master’s forgiveness.

“Master, my loyalty to you is the only thing that’s important to me. I swear to you, as I have sworn before, that I will always do as you bid. Please let me earn your trust again.”

His tears had dried on his cheeks but they welled once again in his eyes when his words were only met with an unimpressed twitch of his Master’s eyebrows. They fell easily as he recognised his mistake, that he had only drawn attention to the fact that despite his promises he had nevertheless betrayed his Master and that he hadn’t addressed the real question behind his Master’s words. The question of whether or not he would obey his Master and Emperor if tasked with the same mission again.

His Master would be able to discern this easily and Anakin felt his alarm renew when Obi-Wan returned his gaze to Coruscant’s outline, his silence portraying the guilty verdict of his decision.

His heart throbbed painfully as a result, intermittent pulses of anguish wracked his body so that he sobbed loudly into the still room. He pressed his hand to his abdomen as his stomach hurled uncontrollably and his throat gagged as he tried to keep up with his erratic breaths. The full extent of his Master’s rejection caused his body to roil from within itself, disgusted at the very thought of ever leaving his Master’s side no matter whether it was by his Master’s crimson lightsaber or by shameful dismissal. And so he knew in that moment, when the idea of leaving his Master’s side caused his body and heart to turn upon themselves, that he would do whatever his Master bid.

With a bowed head and weak voice he said, “P-please - my Master, let me return to Shili and I will ensure the capture of the Togruta’s. I-I will not fail you this time - but if I do, then I am only deserving of the punishment you should rightly give me.”

In the dim light his Master’s handsome face moved not an inch, his hard features carved like stone as he listened to Anakin’s distress. Throughout the past year, when the Galaxy had been reshaped under the brutal hand of a ruthless Empire and his own irreparable misjudgements had torn their world apart, his Master had only ever been this impassive once before - when he had returned to his Master’s side in blood splattered robes, asking for salvation and his continued guidance. Only when he had promised his revenge in the name of his true Master and pledged to kill Sidious had the warmth returned to his Master’s gaze. And so he knew that although his Master was aloof that didn’t mean that he didn’t care. Obi-Wan was still a private and reserved man and so the hurt caused by Anakin’s treachery was hidden and confined beneath durasteel shields that only fell when his Master was sure that his own heart was once again protected.

“Look at me Lord Vader.”

He did so with hesitation and was unsurprised when he was met with the unrelenting stern gaze of his Master. His honey eyes were framed by long, burnished lashes that fluttered almost prettily when he blinked and his fair freckled skin seemed somehow paler against the wine red cape and black robes of his attire. Obi-Wan looked beautiful and dangerous, capable of both mercy and punishment, the decision of Anakin’s fate resting entirely within the grasp of his grip. He didn’t know what his Master would choose.

“Though your suggestion sounds ideal it is no longer possible. Whilst you were disobeying my commands did you ever stop to think as to why they had been given in the first place?” his Master asked in scorn.

“I-I...no – no I-I didn’t my Master,” he stammered pitifully.

Under his Master’s narrowed eyes Anakin shrunk in response.

“The planet has long been a member of the Republic, it is essential that they join the Empire. If they do so then many others will follow them. You know that there are only a small number of planets who have joined the Empire from the Ehosiq sector.”

Using his robes sleeve he wiped at his messy face, hoping that by doing so he would be able to hide the humiliated blush of his cheeks as he listened to his Master speak. He had indeed known all of that, except he had become predictably distracted as soon as he had landed on the planet and had come face to face with more Togruta’s than he had seen in years. All of them had reminded him of Ahsoka, of how he had failed her and how in his plans to colonize her home world he was failing her again.

“I know Master, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?!” his Master spat, “Do you know that as a result of your treason a large portion of the escaped Togruta’s are reported to have joined the Rebellion? And how do you suppose they were able to so quickly join and be welcomed into their ranks? How had they come to learn that such a Rebellion even existed?”

Anakin squeezed his eyes shut as more hot tears streaked from the corners of his eyes. He dug his nails forcefully into his thighs as dread arose in his gut in preparation for where he knew this conversation could only lead.

“...I – I, I – don’t –...” he sobbed.

“Do not lie to me Lord Vader,” his Master sneered. “My informant has told me that a Togruta by the name of Ahsoka Tano is a prominent member of the Rebellion and that you had been informed of this fact whilst you were on the planet – before your battle with the Togruta’s.”

He finally collapsed to his knees when the revelation of his final treason was uttered from his Master’s cold lips. That not only had he let the citizens of Shili leave but that he had done so knowing that many would go on to join the Rebellion, where his former Padawan was currently fighting in a war against himself, his Master and their Empire. His palms fell to the floor, his neck bowed and his back hunched as he wept hysterically. He postured himself in a plea for mercy, yet done so with the full acceptance that if his Master were to take his lightsaber out and separate his head from his neck then it would only be justified.

With trembling limbs and harsh, loud wheezes he tried to speak, “P-plea-se m-my Master, _please_ f-forgive me. I-I have betrayed you and o-our Empire. There a-are no excuses for m-my treachery.”

He raised his head foolishly and felt his heart break when his Master only stared at him with rage filled eyes, the abhorrence and disgust clear for Anakin to see. Obi-Wan had not looked at him with such loathing since that awful day fourteen standard months ago and now he wondered, distantly, if his Master would ever look at him with love again, or if he was forever damned with this callous glare that only served as a reminder of all the pain he had inflicted upon the only person that he loved.

The silence that followed his plea was unbearably loud as he awaited his Master’s judgement. The quiet rekindled his anxiety so that he was aware of his heavy pants and pitiable sniffling. He couldn’t remember the last time he had shown such weakness and was unsure if in that moment his Master would either see it as a flaw or for the act of surrender that it truly was.

“Your words mean nothing now that you have betrayed and lied to me.”

As the last of his Master’s words left his lips his eyelids fluttered shut, it was the softest of movements, yet Anakin was able to decipher the sorrow behind the subtle quiver.

And it was this that broke Anakin. To know that his Master’s sorrow was so grave that he couldn’t offer his forgiveness was agonizing – to see that he couldn’t bear to look at Anakin was excruciating.

He _needed_ his Master’s forgiveness, needed his touch and love. They were the only things in the Galaxy that mattered to him and he would do anything to ensure that they were never lost. In the past year he had destroyed planets, had slaughtered hundreds of thousands of innocents in the name of his Master and had done so with the knowledge that his Master loved him as manically and all consumingly in return. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep his Master’s love for he was sure that without it his heart would shrivel and blacken from grief over its loss.

With a wavering grip he reached up and grasped one of his Master’s hands from where it was still clasped behind his back, though his hands separated easily Anakin didn’t miss the tension that coiled beneath his Master’s skin at his touch. He turned the hand over within his own with the utmost reverence. He slowly admired the hard calluses identifiable to any lightsaber duellist and the soft palm etched with the tough lines that illustrated his Master’s age. Anakin had ached for months without his Master’s touch whilst he toured the Outer Rim and lay claim to any planet that refused to join their Empire. He had thought of these hands obsessively whilst he had shoved his own fingers inside himself ruthlessly, trying and failing repeatedly to replicate the pleasure that only his Master’s hands could bring.

He gathered his courage and lifted his Master’s hand to his lips and pressed a faint kiss against the knuckles, “Master,” he murmured softly.

Anakin raised his eyes timidly, unashamed of his undoubtedly tear streaked cheeks, runny nose and swollen eyes as he gazed at his Master worshipfully. His Master’s eyes were still closed and his face still expressionless, but he hadn’t pulled away in revulsion and so he tried again.

“ _Obi-Wan,_ ” he begged.

At this his Master finally opened his eyes, as Anakin knew he would, his expression indiscernible as he watched his repentant apprentice. It wasn’t that Anakin never used his Master’s given name, but that it was only ever said intimately, the usage of it now spoke of the extent of his desperation.

He moved the hand around his face deliberately so that it almost felt as though his Master was caressing him and whispered brokenly, “P-please, Master. _Obi-Wan - please._ I need you.”

Nausea returned to settle in his stomach when his Master remained as immovable as ever. His grip tightened needlessly when he felt hot tears once again fall from his eyes and drip from his cheeks to splash against his Master’s hand, where from there they ran down the fair skin until they dropped with a deafening splatter against the white marble floor.

“Please don’t leave me,” he sobbed, “Don’t make me live without you Obi-Wan.”

He pressed his Master’s hand to his cheek as he wept frantically, the very real possibility of his exile causing his lungs to constrict so painfully that he struggled to breathe.

As he fought for sanity amongst the onslaught of his despair he felt the softest of touches stroke against his cheek, the caress of his Master’s index finger on his heated skin was the smallest hint of absolution that he needed. The relief that encompassed him as a result was blinding, his Force signature luminous from gratitude so potent that he knew he was an incandescent storm beside his Master’s mind.

Unable to help himself he crawled forward, wrapped his arms around his Master’s legs and pressed his forehead against his hip, he inhaled the intoxicating scent of his Master that although less powerful here was as recognisable and comforting as his lightsaber against his hip.

His body shuddered from pleasure when his Master’s hand raised itself to his hair and begun gently carding through the unruly curls. He slumped forward as his mind finally found peace, the soft stroking of his Master’s hand so calming and long awaited that his agony from mere seconds before evaporated until only tranquillity and quiet joy remained. His Master’s touch had always had that effect on him, it was instinctive and involuntary and the knowledge that he had almost lost it tightened his throat and broke his heart anew. He wept silently in gratefulness over his Master’s decision to bestow him this one touch – this one comfort, and perhaps, to also absolve him of his crimes.

Anakin wasn’t aware of how much time passed whilst his Master soothed him, if he could have then he would have stayed on his knees at his Master’s feet until the end of time, but he felt the stirrings of apprehension return to him as he eventually begun to consider what would happen now.

Not only had he betrayed his Master, but he had also betrayed his Emperor. Obi-Wan _may_ be able to forgive him, somehow, in a personal capacity but the treachery of Lord Vader against his Emperor would need to be handled mercilessly. His Master could have swiftly removed those men involved in the debriefings and who therefore, knew of his treason, yet with a dawning realisation he understood that Lord Vader would have to be publicly punished in some way. It would need to be shown that even the Emperor’s most trusted and beloved advisor would be held accountable for his treacherous actions. His Master ruled the Galaxy with an iron fist and not even Lord Vader could escape his grasp – _Anakin_ though, Anakin might _just_ be afforded the meagre offerings of forgiveness he needed to survive.

The petting of his Master’s hand eventually stopped and he slowly manoeuvred himself from Anakin’s grip where he then returned his gaze to look upon the never ending lights of Coruscant’s night life.

“Sit,” his Master ordered.

He gnawed at his gum nervously as he moved to sit on the wide black sofa placed a short distance from his Master. His Master’s unrelenting silence troubled him though he knew that the quiet was necessary, his Master was fastidious and thorough when deliberating plans or ideas and so he sat waiting as patiently as possible, knowing that to bother his Master now would be similar to an individual poking a Rancor.

Using the sleeve of his robe he once again wiped at his face and winced in distaste when more bodily fluids smeared on the fabric, he rolled his sleeves up as best as he could hoping to ignore the reminder of his misery. The robes though were the least of his problem, his body ached unbearably from exhaustion, his frantic crying and concentrated pleading had caused his eyes to swell and itch near constantly, his lips were bitten and raw from where he had worried them and his sweat slicked curls were disgustingly stuck to his head. More than anything though, his head pounded and pulsed angrily whenever he moved suddenly or found his thoughts anxiously returning to what his Master would do. He felt shattered and raw, his body and mind pulled taught from tension and the almost too real loss of the man that meant everything to him. He wouldn’t complain though, for he knew that this pain was naught compared to the heartache he would have felt if his Master had discarded him.

“You will need to stay here until I say otherwise,” his Master said suddenly, startling Anakin from his internal musings.

“Why?” he asked.

“It would be best if it wasn’t known that I had seen you before setting everything in place.”

He gazed at his Master’s back imploringly, hoping pointlessly that the intensity of his stare would make his Master turn to look at him.

“Before you set everything in place?” he queried hesitantly.

“Yes.”

Anakin almost huffed in annoyance at his Master’s deliberate ambiguity but knew that any impudence from him was likely to re-invoke the glacial dismay of his Master.

With his elbows rested on his knees he ran his hands through his hair, petting himself in a subconsciously calming manner as he considered how his Master planned to punish him. His Master was as cool and collected as ever and therefore, Anakin was unable to deduce any arrangements that he had planned in the few short minutes of their silence.

In an unusual display of caution he reached out with his Force signature to brush against Obi-Wan’s in the ignorant belief that his Master would greet him just as he always had. He recoiled quickly, his chest flooding with pain when not only was he met with durasteel walls that never should have been fortified so fiercely within the private confines of their quarters but also when his Master shoved him gently away. His Master had never denied him entry, had never denied him even the smallest slither of comfort from his Force signature when they were within their own home. He rubbed at his eyes angrily, disappointed with himself that he had expected his Master to receive him as was customary when clearly so much had changed.

“I will have to go away, perhaps for a few weeks,” his Master declared.

“ _What?_ ”

Anakin felt unease coil once more within his gut, his Master couldn’t leave him now. Not when everything between them was still so wrong, not when the name _Anakin_ still hadn’t fallen from his lips, that familiar and glorious cadence curling around the individual letters with so much longing that it often left him pliant and panting.

At long last his Master turned to look at him, his golden eyes were distant and his body was stiff. Obi-Wan stared at him as though he were a bothersome youngling who kept asking questions despite the already obvious answer.

With a grimace his Master said, “It will take me some time to undo the consequences of your actions Lord Vader. I must also arrange an appropriate punishment for your treasonous deeds. Do not think that just because I will comfort you here you will be afforded the same luxury outside these quarters.”

He felt his lips tremble uncontrollably, so close to whimpering in discontent over the return of that name, instead he merely swallowed thickly against the lump in his throat, “Of course, Master.”

With no indication that he had heard Anakin speak or even cared for what he had to say his Master begun walking away from him and towards the door. Almost instantaneously his panic returned to flay at his already battered essence, a high distressed keen wrenching free from his throat as he reached out to his Master despite the obvious distance.

The noise and gesture caused his Master to stop where he was, a jolt of hesitation in the movement before he turned to look at Anakin with an unreadable glare.

“I-I...I...” he croaked, “I-I...I need...” He wanted to cry and plead at his Master and say _I need something, anything, please Master, don’t leave me like this, promise me that you will return_ but he was wary that it would be too much too soon. It was for his Master to decide how much of himself he gave to Anakin when the knowledge of his betrayal still loomed ominously over them.

He watched as his Master moved towards him with precise, even steps, his gait confident and powerful as he stared at Anakin knowingly. With the gentlest of touches his Master placed his hands amongst his curls behind his head, leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.

“I promise that I will return dear one,” his Master whispered.

Tears leaked from behind his eyes as a soft, vulnerable whimper left his mouth. His panic withdrew as he felt the truthfulness of his Master’s quiet murmur seep into the Force around them. As his Master retreated he wiped the tears from Anakin’s heated cheeks with the pads of thumbs and granted Anakin a subtle, private smile – a smile that only Anakin got to see.

With his heart near fit to burst he smiled delicately in return and continued doing so as he watched his Master leave the room.

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Stover whilst writing this and I apparently needed an outlet for all the sadness.


End file.
